


Mortal Business

by manic_intent



Category: Ghost of Tsushima (Video Game), Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Sekiro, Crossover, M/M, That Sekiro AU where Jin is the Divine Heir and Ryuzo the Wolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25878805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: “Eyes like a starved wolf,” Lord Shimura said in disapproval as his guest poured sake for them both. “When I asked you to find a protector for my nephew, I meant a suitable guard. Not someone who looks like he’d sooner bite the hand that feeds him than protect it.”“Starving wolves can be useful.” Kojiro smiled his unsettling smile, his eyes hidden under a black dome of a straw hat, furs and scarves draped over his black kimono and hakama. Tsushima’s Crow. Neither ronin nor shinobi but something in between, more living shinigami than kensei.“This Ryuzo is young. Not that much older than Jin.”“He’s capable enough. Besides,” Kojiro said, draining his cup, “a young man is less likely to covet the Dragon’s Heritage, for young men all think themselves invincible.”
Relationships: Ryuzo/Sakai Jin, Sakai Jin/Ryuzo
Comments: 10
Kudos: 122





	Mortal Business

**Author's Note:**

> You don’t need to know Sekiro to read this fic: I try to write my crossovers with sufficient contained context so people don’t have to be familiar with 2x fandoms. However, if you’re interested, the fandom has quite a bit of art and fic, and this is the trailer that should give you some idea:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lddk4FbcWpg
> 
> A brief rundown of Sekiro: Kuro, the Divine Heir (the Miko), is protected by a shinobi, Wolf, who Kuro bestowed the Dragon’s Heritage’s immortal oath to, making Wolf effectively undead—when he dies, he comes back to life. Naturally, almost everyone and their mother in the failed state of Ashina that you’re in wants to have this oath, especially Ashina’s general, Genichiro. On the other hand, after seeing what immortality tends to do to people, Kuro wants to gather the things required to sever the Dragon’s Heritage and restore his humanity, and that’s what you do through the game as Wolf: a massive fetch quest, p much. 
> 
> I’ve seen Sekiro stories where the Divine Heir is always a child, but tbh since it comes through a bloodline, I don’t know how likely that is. For this AU, so as to avoid having to tag the story underage, a Divine Heir can grow older.

“Eyes like a starved wolf,” Lord Shimura said in disapproval as his guest poured sake for them both. “When I asked you to find a protector for my nephew, I meant a suitable guard. Not someone who looks like he’d sooner bite the hand that feeds him than protect it.”

“Starving wolves can be useful.” Kojiro smiled his unsettling smile, his eyes hidden under a black dome of a straw hat, furs and scarves draped over his black kimono and hakama. Tsushima’s Crow. Neither ronin nor shinobi but something in between, more living shinigami than kensei. 

“This Ryuzo is young. Not that much older than Jin.” 

“He’s capable enough. Besides,” Kojiro said, draining his cup, “a young man is less likely to covet the Dragon’s Heritage, for young men all think themselves invincible.” 

“There is that,” Lord Shimura said, though he didn’t sound convinced. 

“Isn’t there a reason why you asked me to find a protector, instead of asking me to serve the boy myself?” 

“It would be a waste of your talents.” Lord Shimura poured out the next two cups. “I need you in Toyotama until the Yarikawa rebellion has been suppressed.”

“As you wish.” They drank the rest of the sake in silence, and as Kojiro got to his feet, Lord Shimura barely glanced at him. Kojiro stepped out of the balcony and onto the roof, making his way quietly over the rooftops of Castle Shimura to the tallest building, dodging patrols. As Kojiro slipped through the window of his intended destination, he was greeted by silence and shadows. 

Kojiro shook his head. “Ryuzo. I’ve told you about standing in the most obvious hiding spot.” 

Something moved from the deep shadow, but Ryuzo’s laugh came from overhead. “That isn’t me,” Ryuzo said. He smirked at Kojiro from the beam above, one hand on his katana, poised for an overhead leap. “Your eyes are starting to fail you, old man.” 

A boy in yellow silk emerged, studying Kojiro with open curiosity. The Divine Heir looked like any other highborn child his age, quiet and reserved, with a soft and honest face. “You must be Kojiro,” said Jin. “Ryuzo said you’re his father.”

“Adopted father,” Ryuzo said, dropping noiselessly down from the beam to stand beside Jin. He was around Jin’s age, but there was little soft about his face or his rangy frame. An old scar ran across the left side of his face, tracing a deliberate line from his brow to his cheek. He wore a ragged red scarf over an old brown haori, thrice-mended, a plain katana thrust through his obi.

“Getting along well, I see,” Kojiro said, smiling his uneven smile. 

“Ryuzo is quite unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” Jin said, with a shy smile. “I hope we’ll become good friends.”

“Do you even meet many people cooped up in here?” Ryuzo gestured at the chamber. “I know you’re the—” 

Ryuzo jerked as Kojiro clamped a hand over his mouth and stabbed him in the chest with a dagger. Wide-eyed in shock, Ryuzo fell onto his knees as Kojiro bore him down and pulled the blade out, wiping it on Ryuzo’s clothes as Ryuzo convulsed and clawed at Kojiro’s wrist, choking on his blood. 

Still smiling, Kojiro looked up into Jin’s frozen look of horror. “I’ve always been curious about how the Dragon’s Heritage works,” Kojiro said as Ryuzo weakened, his hands going limp. “Show me, boy.” 

“I… you just killed… but he’s your son!” Jin said, growing pale. 

“The battlefield is full of starving wolf cubs.” Kojiro drew his stained palm away as blood bubbled from Ryuzo’s mouth, the boy’s shock fading into a betrayed rage as his life seeped away. “What is one more to me?” 

Divine or not, Jin broke in seconds. He rushed to Ryuzo’s side with a sob, falling on his knees and cradling Ryuzo against him. Kojiro couldn’t hear the words Jin whispered to Ryuzo as Ryuzo breathed his last, sheathing the dagger back in his obi and watching indifferently as Jin wept and rocked Ryuzo’s body against him. 

“Oh? That’s interesting,” Kojiro said. The skin around the stab wound faded to an ashen, mottled white that reminded Kojiro unkindly of an old, shed snakeskin. The blood pumping from the wound slowed and stopped. Kojiro sniffed the air. The scent of sakura petals settled over the smell of blood, mingling thickly. 

Ryuzo jerked in Jin’s arms with a wet gasp, his eyes flying open. His hand closed on the hilt of his katana as he tried to get up, but Kojiro pinned Ryuzo’s palm and hilt to his flank with a foot, chuckling darkly. “What’s with that look, boy? You should thank me.” He nodded at Ryuzo’s sealed wound. “To become one of the oathbound is an honour, or so I hear.” 

“You _killed_ me,” Ryuzo said. He twisted with a cough, hacking up the blood in his throat and mouth on the floor. 

“Not for very long. Though. This will have to be our little secret, won’t it?” Kojiro said, stepping back. “After all, I doubt Lord Shimura will feel kindly about you bestowing an oath on a ‘starving wolf’. Lord Sakai.” At the look of helpless fury that Jin levelled at him, Kojiro tipped his hat with mocking politeness and climbed back out of the window. He whistled as he walked over the roof tiles, the sun setting over the rooftops in swathes of vermillion and saffron, the colour of hunger and fire.

#

Over the years, Ryuzo died again and again. Mostly by Kojiro’s hand, now that Kojiro no longer needed to turn his blade as they ‘trained’. Once when Ryuzo misjudged a jump between rooftops on his way out from Jin’s room, deep enough during the night that no one came upon him in the alley as he bit through his wrist pulling himself back together in silence. Sometimes he awoke again from death nearly instantly, wounds knitting back from the point of being mortal, pushing back up to his feet with a choked snarl that always made Kojiro smile mirthlessly. On other occasions, he woke on Jin’s futon with Jin folded over him, shaking. Those were the worst.

“Enough already,” Ryuzo croaked, pushing at Jin’s tear-streaked face with a weak hand. He looked himself over blearily. Someone, possibly Jin, had removed Ryuzo’s ruined clothes and wrapped him in one of Jin’s spare yukata. “You’re not the one who got carved up like a boar.” 

“Kojiro can’t keep doing this to you,” Jin said, the same thing he always said. “We have to talk to my uncle.” 

“That would go so well,” Ryuzo said, curling up with his back to Jin. He surreptitiously ran a palm down his front, groping for his heartbeat. Still there. “He already wants to be rid of me.” 

“He can’t. You’re my oathbound. That won’t change.” Jin touched Ryuzo’s shoulder. “I’ve been doing some reading. The Dragon’s Heritage isn’t the blessing everyone thinks it is.”

“Isn’t it?” Ryuzo closed his eyes, trying to forget the last thing he’d seen before his most recent death. Kojiro on his haunches, watching Ryuzo with idle curiosity as he carved out Ryuzo’s still-beating heart. Bastard. “I’d have died years ago if not for it.” 

“I didn’t mean that.” Jin snuggled behind Ryuzo’s back. “It doesn’t make you immortal. It bends you away from death by stealing someone else’s life-force. Someone close by.” 

Ryuzo rolled over to regard Jin. “Someone died? Who?” 

“Not died. I overheard some of the kashindan discussing it after practice. People in the castle have been getting sick. A wasting, coughing sickness, one that turns patches of their skin grey with scales. My uncle’s asked Cedar Temple to investigate it on his behalf.” 

Ryuzo slid his hand into his borrowed yukata, tracing the scales on his skin. “So discovery is only going to be a matter of time.” 

“My uncle can send Kojiro away. Or deal with him.” 

“Kojiro goes where he wants,” Ryuzo said with a dry laugh, closing his eyes. “He only serves your uncle right now because it suits him to. Your uncle’s a great swordsman, but Kojiro is a demon.” It was why Ryuzo still did what he was told. 

Jin gripped Ryuzo’s shoulders. “Then I’ll face him. The next time he calls you away to spar. I’ll fight in your place. A Divine Heir can’t be killed by normal means, and I’ve been getting much better under my uncle’s tutelage.” 

“There are worse things than dying,” Ryuzo said, having seen it firsthand as a war-orphan, scrounging through the killing fields of Yarikawa for something to eat. He sat up, dizzy for a moment before his nausea faded, tipping up Jin’s chin. “Besides, what kind of oathbound would step aside and allow their master to fight in their place? Are you saying I’m that much worse than Lady Gozen Tomoe?”

“She _is_ a legend,” Jin said. Usually, any mention of the most famous oathbound in history would cheer Jin up. Today, Jin pulled away, his jaw set. “I’m eighteen. No longer a boy. I can fight my own battles.” 

“Have you seen Kojiro fight before?”

“No, but I’ve heard the stories.” 

“Up.” Ryuzo got to his feet, staggering for a moment before Jin steadied him. “The viewing platform upstairs is usually empty, isn’t it? Show me how much better you are now.” 

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” 

“I’m fine,” Ryuzo said. By the time they walked up to the platform, he would be. “Not the bokken. You have Kusabimaru, don’t you? Neither of us can die by normal means, anyway. Let’s fight for real.” 

Jin stared at Ryuzo in alarm. “I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t.” Ryuzo bent to pick up his plain katana and paused as Jin stepped on the scabbard. “Jin.” 

“Please. Use the bokken.” 

“If you can’t bear to use a bared blade against me, what about Kojiro?” 

“That isn’t the same!” 

“It should be, under the way you’re taught.” Ryuzo went down on a knee, affecting an air of respect. “Miko-sama. A samurai wields their sword without emotion. Whether facing their own oathbound or some other opponent.” 

Jin flushed. “I don’t need you to lecture me.” 

“Merely pointing out that you’re nowhere near ready to fight Kojiro,” Ryuzo said, cocking his head. “If you’re unable to fight without getting angry. Or getting sentimental.” 

Jin let out a shaky sound and turned away, hugging himself. “What then? It isn’t just about what he does to you. The sickness—if it spreads. I can’t allow that to happen.” 

“I’ll go to Cedar Temple and talk to the monks,” Ryuzo decided, getting to his feet. “They might have learned something by now. Or I might be able to help things along.” 

“That far away?” Jin’s lower lip trembled. “It’s a dangerous journey.” 

“I can’t die. What do I have to fear?” 

“You yourself said there were worse things than death. No. I won’t permit it.” Jin stiffened as Ryuzo embraced him from behind, nuzzling his throat. “You can’t persuade me this way. I’m not in the mood.” 

“Aren’t you?” Ryuzo nibbled at Jin’s throat, chuckling as Jin whined and pressed into his touch. “Miko-sama, if I please you by the windows during a night this still, do you think your uncle will hear us if I pin your hands? Loud as you can get?” 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Jin hissed, reddening. He gasped as Ryuzo rubbed against his rump, pinning Ryuzo’s growing arousal between them. Ryuzo grinned slyly, catching Jin’s ear in his teeth. He was about to draw Jin over to the closest window and make good on his threat when he heard the faint sounds of approaching footsteps. Jin stumbled as Ryuzo let him go, picking up his plain katana from the floor and vaulting up to a roof beam via the altar. He crept closer to the entrance as Jin straightened his clothes and reached for his blade.

“Jin?” Lord Shimura let himself into the chamber. Ryuzo relaxed, even as Jin left Kusabimaru on the rack and picked up a scroll at random instead, walking out from behind the screen with a smile. 

“Oji-ue,” Jin said respectfully. 

“There you are.” Lord Shimura looked grave. “At your age, you shouldn’t be spending all your time in your room.” 

“I was researching the illness that Lady Masako mentioned.” 

“It isn’t contagious, as far as we can tell, and those suffering have been separated just in case. Another matter concerns me.” Lord Shimura handed Jin the scroll that he held. 

Jin scanned it, then looked sharply up at Lord Shimura. “I’m to report to the shōgunate court?” 

Ryuzo tensed. Oblivious, Lord Shimura said, “Shikken Hōjō wants the power of the Dragon Heritage for himself, when he doesn’t know—or perhaps doesn’t care—about its price.”

“How did he learn about me?” Jin said, surprised.

“Clan Shimura has successfully hidden Clan Sakai for centuries, but all things eventually come to light,” Lord Shimura said, studying Jin carefully. “This illness in the castle. Its symptoms are well-documented in the divine texts. The dragonrot afflicts people unlucky enough to come into close contact with one of the oathbound.” 

“Oji-ue,” Jin began, his hands tensing on the scroll. 

“Is it the crow or the wolf?” Lord Shimura asked. When Jin dropped his gaze, Lord Shimura said, “One of those afflicted is the castle blacksmith, another, a stablehand. All of the rest, however, are nightjar sentries, and I know only two people who prefer the rooftops to stairs.”

“The wolf,” Jin whispered, having never been able to lie. Balanced on the beam, Ryuzo silently smacked himself in the face with his palm. As Lord Shimura scowled, Jin said, “Oji-ue, I had no choice. Kojiro stabbed Ryuzo in front of me. Was I just supposed to let him die?” 

“He did?” Lord Shimura blinked. “His own son… when was this?”

“The night we first met.” 

“For so long?” Lord Shimura said, appalled, even as Ryuzo smacked himself again and bit down a groan. Damn Jin and his honesty. “This is not a secret that you should have kept from me.” 

“I did not want you to send Ryuzo away,” Jin muttered, though he didn’t raise his gaze. 

“You should have let him die. The oath is not a mercy, Jin, it is a curse. To be undying is to forget what it means to be human. What Kojiro did to a child—a boy who should have been under his protection—was an injustice. But what you did to Ryuzo was also an injustice.” 

Ryuzo couldn’t stay silent any longer. “Shouldn’t the murder victim get to have an opinion? Lord Shimura.” 

Lord Shimura didn’t even favour him with a glance. “The Sakai estate burned because of people who coveted your bloodline, Jin. I hoped that your parents’ tragic deaths would’ve had the effect of making the shōgunate court believe that the Dragon’s Heritage was just a myth. Since the curse bypassed your father. Now we must prepare for war against the shōgunate, all because of a boy who should be dead.” 

Jin looked up evenly at his uncle. “I won’t allow anyone to die on my behalf. Not Ryuzo, not the sick. Nor am I willing to be the reason behind a war.” 

“If you go to the mainland, you’d make things worse. Shikken Hōjō is a power-hungry man. You’ve seen the effect of the dragon’s curse from only one of the oathbound. Should the Shikken spread the curse within his armies, the mainland will fall victim to a plague. Or worse.” 

“I’m not willing to go to the mainland.” Jin handed the scroll back to Lord Shimura. “I am no longer a child in need of protection. Tell Shikken Hōjō that I was nowhere to be found. I’ll leave the castle tonight with Ryuzo.” 

“With him?” Lord Shimura said in distaste. “Where to?” 

“First to Cedar Temple, in the hopes of helping the monks find a cure to the dragonrot. Then…” Jin trailed off. “My grandfather’s journal mentioned an odachi called Fushigiri. A crimson blade whose purpose was to slay that which cannot be slain.” 

Lord Shimura tensed up. “What would you want with such a thing?” 

“He called it a possible way of ending the family curse,” Jin said with a wan smile. “I wondered for years what he was talking about. Now I know.” 

“Jin,” Lord Shimura said, wide-eyed. 

Jin bowed deeply. “Oji-ue. Thank you for walking this far with me. But the rest of my path is mine to choose.”

#

“You’ve been quiet,” Jin said once they rode out of sight of Castle Shimura in understated traveller’s clothes.

“I’m trying to piece together how exactly we went from ‘I’ll investigate Cedar Temple’ to the both of us being tossed out of the castle,” Ryuzo said. 

“We weren’t tossed out.”

“You know what I mean. You were safer in the castle. It’d have been easier for me to go to the Temple myself.” 

“If I stayed, the shōgunate would attack.”

Ryuzo laughed. “If you think they’d believe Lord Shimura when he tells them his nephew is now conveniently missing, you’re naive. They’ll attack. You’ve changed nothing, except now you’re no longer safe behind walls and moats and your _uncle’s army!_ ” 

“I don’t see why you’re so upset,” Jin said, as though Ryuzo was the unreasonable one. As Ryuzo glowered at him, Jin murmured, “Besides, I wanted to see what the world was like. Outside the castle. I spent ten years walled into the innermost manor of my family estate, and the next eight years in a keep. The world beyond—it’s more beautiful than I thought.” 

“The novelty will wear off quickly,” Ryuzo said, though he softened in the face of Jin’s unashamed delight as a bird flew by, sketching a golden arc through the lush boughs of nearby trees. As the sun began to sink past the horizon, Ryuzo led them off the road to a small, long-abandoned house, its doors boarded up, accessible through a hole in the thatch roof. They washed in the stream close by and ate fish that Ryuzo caught for their dinner. Jin grew quiet through dinner, even after Ryuzo helped him into the house. 

As they lay together on a heap of old straw and cloth, Ryuzo said, “Homesick already?” 

“Why do you ask?”

Ryuzo poked Jin in the cheek. “You have a faraway look to you.” 

“I’m reflecting on my blessings.” 

“Which one? About the plague you’ve indirectly caused, or the war that’s brewing over you?” 

Jin poked Ryuzo back. “I said blessings. Like being here with you.” 

“It’s only your first night away from a huge, comfortable castle where you were waited on hand and foot. You’d find life on the road far less fun than you think.” 

Jin opened his mouth, probably to say something sappy. Ryuzo leaned over to kiss him, rolling on top to pin him to the straw as Jin’s hands stroked eagerly up Ryuzo’s back and further up, untangling the knot in his hair. As Ryuzo undid their clothes and they pressed skin to skin, Jin went still. His hand slipped between them, caressing the dragon mark on Ryuzo’s skin. In the dim light from the stars, it was hard to read Jin’s expression. Ryuzo made a guess, kissing Jin on the cheek. “It isn’t your fault. I’m glad you brought me back,” he said.

“My uncle was right. It was selfish of me.” 

Ryuzo nipped Jin on the jaw. “As I told your uncle, surely the murder victim deserves an opinion.”

Jin’s hand paused over the mark. “Ryuzo, I. I didn’t bind you purely for your sake. I’d just… I’d never had a friend my age before. I didn’t want to lose that. That’s what I meant about being selfish. It wasn’t wholly altruistic.” 

Ryuzo chuckled, nuzzling Jin’s throat. “That’s what’s bothering you?” 

“Shouldn’t it?” 

“Jin.” Ryuzo brushed their lips together, tracing the plush edge of Jin’s with his tongue. “I could guess why you did it. Doesn’t make me any less grateful.”

Jin blinked. “How did you…? “

“Kojiro stabbed me the moment you said you hoped we could be good friends.” 

That made Jin turn very pale. “I… but I…” 

Ryuzo hummed, pressing another kiss over Jin’s mouth until his protests subsided. “It wasn’t your fault. He would’ve done it sooner or later. The moment he felt you were attached enough to the puppy he threw at your feet.” 

“I still don’t understand what he wanted,” Jin said, his hands going tense over Ryuzo’s back. “Why he keeps trying to hurt you.” 

“To satisfy a curiosity? Something else? Who knows. He’s more of a demon than a man,” Ryuzo said, having known this all along. Even as a hungry child, alone on a battlefield. He pulled Jin’s palm up to the scar on his cheek. “How do you think I got this? Kojiro gave it to me when we first met. When he cut open my cheek and I didn’t cry, that was when he decided to adopt me.” 

“…I’m sorry,” Jin said, gently stroking his thumb down the old scar.

“Don’t be. I’d have died if he hadn’t picked me off that field.” Ryuzo scowled. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to kill him now. Which reminds me. You didn’t mention anything to me about this special odachi.” 

“I don’t know if it exists,” Jin said, “and I didn’t want to upset you.” 

“According to the divine texts, people like you can die of old age. Or sickness. Is that too mundane for you, Lord Sakai?” 

“It isn’t about that. Maybe there’s a way to end the family curse.” 

“I’d consider any solution involving an odachi rather suspect,” Ryuzo said, though he had to concede the point. He kissed Jin as Jin started to explain, until Jin was rocking shyly against him, plucking at his loosened yukata. Ryuzo began to shift down, but Jin grabbed fistfuls of his clothes to hold him still, begging for kisses. Ryuzo obeyed, giving Jin what he wanted as he undid their fundoshi and tossed the undergarments aside, spitting on his palm and taking them both in hand. Jin bucked against him and made an inquiring, impatient noise when Ryuzo only gave him a teasing squeeze. 

“Turn around,” Ryuzo said with a hungry grin. “Miko-sama.”

“Please don’t call me that when we’re doing this,” Jin said, though he twisted under Ryuzo and yelped as Ryuzo got two handfuls of his gorgeous rump and kneaded. He thrust his spit-wet cock between the firm cheeks, biting down over Jin’s shoulder as Jin gasped and squirmed. Gods. That felt far better than Ryuzo could’ve imagined. 

Ryuzo groped under Jin, closing his fingers tightly over Jin’s cock to give him something to thrust into. Jin groaned, arching as he bucked eagerly between Ryuzo’s hand and his shaft, trembling each time the fat head caught against his hole. It was tempting to do more, but they had a long ride before them tomorrow. Jin was loud enough now was it was, moaning Ryuzo’s name as his hips snapped into Ryuzo’s grip. “I’m beginning to feel better about our little adventure,” Ryuzo panted against Jin’s ear, light-headed with lust and pleasure. Jin squirmed until he could kiss Ryuzo over his shoulder, messy and wet. He cried out as Ryuzo rubbed his sword-roughened thumb under the sensitive tip, tensing as he spilt over Ryuzo’s fingers. As Jin went lax, panting, Ryuzo brought himself off with his soiled hand, grunting as he marked the small of Jin’s back with his seed. 

Jin was too sleepy to do much more than lie still as Ryuzo cleaned them up, mumbling and pulling at Ryuzo as he dressed them both. He dozed off once they were curled together, his breaths easing against Ryuzo’s throat. Ryuzo stroked the back of Jin’s neck, watching the corner of the night sky through the hole in the thatch. The dragon mark on his skin sometimes ached, a phantom pain that reminded Ryuzo of all the years he’d borrowed because of Jin. He was beginning to understand why Kojiro killed him over and over, each time more brutally. It had to be lonely being the only Crow in the world, a demon of a sword-saint, for whom death no longer held any further meaning. 

Well. A wolf was not a crow.

Fingers tickled over Ryuzo’s belly, up to the mark. Not asleep after all. Where Jin’s fingers pressed, the ache eased. “What are you thinking about?” Jin asked drowsily. 

“Nothing in particular,” Ryuzo said, his hand going still over Jin’s back. “Sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: @manic_intent  
> prompt policy, original stuff, writing process: manicintent.carrd.co  
> —  
> Notes:  
> Before anyone gets on my case, yes, Sekiro takes place in the Sengoku era, which is centuries after Ghost of Tsushima. The concept of shinobi doesn’t exist yet during GOT. For a magical surrealist alt-history AU though, /handwave.


End file.
